


its blinding twilight

by stormss



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Established Relationship, Found Family, Good Dad Owen Strand, Introspection, M/M, Prompt Fill, Shovel Talk, sort of!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24747256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormss/pseuds/stormss
Summary: Owen knows—well, he knows that his son shrinks in on himself sometimes. He's loud and strong and boisterous as the rest of them, but everyone on his team has secrets, and his son's no different. Owen all-too clearly remembers his boy at nine, fifteen, twenty-one, hiding behind jokes and smiles that were too wide to be real. But he doesn't expect it all to turn around when they end up in Texas.*Or, at a party celebrating the 126's one-year anniversary, Owen and Carlos have a conversation.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes & Owen Strand, Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Owen Strand & TK Strand
Comments: 27
Kudos: 298
Collections: 9-1-1 Lone Star ▶ Carlos Reyes / Tyler Kennedy "TK" Strand





	its blinding twilight

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill for [theworld-is-out-there,](https://theworld-is-out-there.tumblr.com/) who suggested: _Owen, "I'm your/his dad, I'm always going to worry"_ and this somehow spun out of control, but i hope you enjoy!! 
> 
> the title is from _midnight city_ by m83. as always, come say hi or send me a fic request over on [tumblr!!](https://reyesstrand.tumblr.com/)

Like most nights, Owen wakes with a start. 

Thankfully they're off-shift, so he's at least given the privacy of being in his bedroom at home when he practically jumps out of his skin at the memories of his dream, a gasp ripping through him before he can settle, before he can tell himself that everything's okay. Few things calm him down after nights like these, and he groans as he gets out of bed — he picked up a new organic blend of tea from the nice place downtown the other day, and figures this is as good a time as any to test it out. He knows that he'll do anything to try and catch a few more hours of sleep; they have a big day ahead of them tomorrow, if the party invitations and constant reminders from the team says anything, and Owen wants to be _himself_ when he celebrates with the 126. 

So he tries not to think about the nightmarish hellscape he woke up from, his subconscious throwing him images so quickly they started to blur together in a big mass of terror: a cloud of dust settling over practically everything in the city he called home; TK, nineteen and frail, shaking through withdrawals for the first time; needles pumping poison into his own veins, as he grappled with willingly letting his body get weaker so he would have a chance at a future; TK's face when his heart started again, a mix of disappointment and relief welling up in his eyes; a bullet ripping through his son's skin, even though it should've been _him_ — he should've been in the line of fire. 

It doesn't shock him much anymore, that his son occupies as much of his happy dreams as his bad ones. 

He just loves his kid. And sometimes in the dead of night he forgets, for the briefest of moments, that he's moved them somewhere things can be better, somewhere they've both managed to find a new family. He forgets that they're no longer in New York, living blocks and blocks apart, barely seeing each other unless they were on-shift together. They're no longer stuck talking around the big issues, and TK's no longer living in a fantasy where his relationship was as strong as he wanted it to be. They're both constantly getting better, and they're thriving, and they've been like this for a year now, officially. 

But Owen...he's always going to worry about his son. 

There's little that can tamper down that worry that seems to claw at him from the inside out; even now, as he quietly makes his way down the hall toward the kitchen, he's careful of the creaky floorboards even though he knows his kid's bedroom will be empty when he walks by. And it is, even though he spares a glance inside. He's come to expect this over the past few weeks, as TK's relationship with Carlos has grown from just recently official to the two of them in the stage of barely being able to keep their hands off of each other, to _now,_ which includes TK having a drawer and a toothbrush over at Carlos' place. Owen smiles a little bit, nerves tampered down a little because he knows his kid is okay, and he'd never keep him from spending time with his boyfriend — TK already gives up so much of his limited free time to go with him to every and any appointment, paying close attention to everything his doctor's say, keeping notes, even, in case Owen forgets something about his meds or his next chemo date. 

Besides, he knows he has no reason to worry, even if it's there like some primal instinct: to protect. Because he makes it downstairs and turns the kettle on and scrolls through his phone, unsurprised to find a text from TK, sent long after Owen had set his phone aside for the night as he went to bed. 

Love just seems to pour from his kid, it radiates off him in waves, and it's tangible even in text-form. Case in point, his son's message: _don't wait up! carlos is taking me to mini golf, so send me good vibes,_ and later, _i'm safe at carlos' by the way. sleep tight! see you in the morning._ His kid would be long asleep now, especially when Owen realizes it's almost two in the morning. 

There's a reminder notification on his home screen, once he looks past the text. He'd put it in nearly three weeks ago just to appease the team, who were worried he'd forget about the big day. And Owen can't help the thrill of excitement that shoots through his system at the thought of all of them getting to just unwind together, off-duty and without any worries in the world. That's what he should focus on: the _not_ worrying part. 

As he heads back up to bed, tea finished and mug left in the sink for his morning self to worry about, he's comforted in the fact that his kid is safe — and so he is, too. 

* * *

It didn't take long for the whole team to collectively realize that _one,_ they've officially been together as a team at the rebuilt 126 for exactly a year now, and _two,_ that clearly meant that they had to throw a party. 

Parties had became an unexpected development at the firehouse over the last six months; it started with the quickly thrown together welcome-back party for TK after he was finally approved for duty again after his medical leave. And then there were other occasions — birthdays and anniversaries and holidays — and even if there wasn't anything particularly special to celebrate, they often kept up with their bi-weekly cookouts at Grace and Judd's whenever possible. Because they're a _family,_ that's what they do. 

But Owen admittedly wasn't expecting _this_ as he walks through the Ryders' home and into their expansive backyard, which is set up with streamers and string lights and various yard games. There are multiple tables set up in a long line, covered with tablecloths and piles of plates and silverware, with space for enough food to feed half of the city left open. Judd's strolled out next to him, and Owen gives him a pleasantly surprised look as he admits: "I gotta say, I think you two outdid yourselves." 

"We can't take all the credit, Cap," Judd explains, gesturing over to where Marjan and TK are very meticulously setting up cups near the makeshift bar. "They've been here since dawn. I'm just surprised they haven't ripped each other's heads off yet." 

As if on cue, they can hear the two of them bickering — at least, as close to bickering as they get, because Owen's yet to see either of them mad at the other for _anything,_ including stealing food off one another's plates — over the best way to set up the balloons, of all things. Owen just gives Judd a knowing look before the two men laugh, more amicable than ever, almost a complete opposite to how things were when Owen first took over the 126. Judd lightly punches Owen's shoulder and mentions something about checking in on Grace, before Owen goes to make himself busy, too. 

Within an hour, the party's really gotten into swing. 

The whole firehouse has shown up, save for the team that was currently working, who'd get first dibs at the leftovers tomorrow. Michelle and her crew had strolled in half an hour ago, and along with everyone's plus-ones, the backyard is packed as music spills out of the speakers and drinks are poured. Paul comes in late with Mateo and one of the new probies, all of them carrying ice and enough cases of booze to last them until the night bled into the early hours of the morning. And when everyone's finally been accounted for, there are a couple sappy speeches before food is served and everyone immediately jumps in to devour Grace's home-cooked Texan staples. 

Owen finds himself content to just sit back and watch, as the sky turns violet and small groups start to form to continue conversations. His eyes shift and he catches sight of TK and Carlos, and he feels another wave of the comfort he'd felt last night as he watches them. He just wants what's best for his son, and he can see it in the way that TK and Carlos just seem to casually occupy one another's space; how they touch each other with a care and gentleness that Owen can't ever recall seeing with any of TK's other boyfriends. And he watches TK's face in particular, how his smile never falters, how his eyes crinkle up, and it feels so new but _real_ that he's taken aback, a little. 

Owen knows—well, he knows that his son shrinks in on himself sometimes. He's loud and strong and boisterous as the rest of them, but everyone on his team has secrets, and his son's no different. Owen all-too clearly remembers his boy at nine, fifteen, twenty-one, hiding behind jokes and smiles that were too wide to be real. But he doesn't expect it all to turn around when they end up in Texas. And it really _has._ There have been rough patches, of course, but Tk's truly been on an upward slope with no downturn in sight, and as a father, it's a relief. The last thing Owen needs — the last thing _TK_ needs — is another Alex incident. His blood still boils at that; at the fact that the kid knew how hard and deep TK loved, always putting others first, only for him to take all that and crush it and cheat on TK. Owen knew it wouldn't last — not even as a pessimist, or as a twice-divorced man, but as a father who never saw his son getting half of the love he gave out in return. 

This thing, though, between him and Carlos — it's real. He can tell from a distance; he can tell when he walks in on them in the kitchen or in the bay of the firehouse, so lost in their own world. He sees the way TK looks at Carlos and he sees how the other man looks at his son: the way he _should_ be looked at, the way he _deserves_ to be looked at. 

And Owen doesn't know where it comes from, the sudden urge to talk with the man who's got his son's heart, but he finds himself strolling up to Carlos when TK runs off to play a yard game with Paul and Nancy. 

"Sir," Carlos says, offering him a polite smile and an out-stretched hand once Owen has approached. 

Owen shakes the kid's hand, but still gives him a shake of his head. "Owen, please, Carlos. I think we know each other well enough now for that." 

"Owen, then. It's nice to see you." 

"It's a great turnout, huh?" Owen glances around at the party, Carlos humming in agreement. It's a little awkward for a few more beats, until Owen clears his throat. "I was actually wondering if you and I could have a chat?" 

He doesn't miss the flash of panic in Carlos' eyes, but when the man nods nonetheless, Owen directs them toward the back corner of the yard, which seems to be the quietest and most private place for them to talk. He takes a seat on one of the chairs placed there, and gestures for Carlos to take the seat next to him. 

"Now, I don't want to scare you off, son," Owen starts, and he can practically feel Carlos' sharp inhale. "But I've noticed it getting serious between you and TK, and I though it might be time for us to get to know each other." 

"Sir, if I can just say — I love your son," Carlos says, practically tripping over his words. "It feels like I've lived my whole life waiting for him, and I would never disrespect him, or hurt him—" 

"Hey, whoa," Owen holds his hands up as he interrupts, trying to steer this conversation away from the traditional and out-dated expectations he'd grown up around. "I never thought you would, Carlos. I trust you, and I trust my son to make his decisions. I don't want this to turn into something where I threaten you, or tell you I know how to hide a dead body if you hurt my kid, or whatever. I wanted—" 

Owen stops, staring down at the grass below him for a moment. He doesn't know how to say what he wants the other man to hear, even though it's going to eat at him until he finally gets the words out. And after a moment, he finally continues. 

"I just wanted you to know how thankful I am for you. I wanted you to know that—that even when things get hectic, I can sleep comfortably knowing that you have my son and my son has you." 

"He's always going to be safe with me, Owen," Carlos says, seemingly more relaxed now. "I—I can't promise much, but I know that I will fight every single day to get home to him." 

Owen smiles a little at that. "You know, I'm his dad, and I'm always going to worry. And he's my only son, so he's always going to be the centre of my world. But I'm—I'm so pleased that things worked out with you two."

"I am too," Carlos admits, a little pink in the face. After a moment, he quietly adds: "He keeps me safe too. I feel—I know I don't have to worry when I'm with him. You should know that he's a good source of comfort, he like, radiates this good energy that's impossible to feel negatively about." 

"I'm so—"

"Do I even want to know what's happening here?" 

Both of them look up at TK, who's a little unsettled at the thought of them having a one-on-one chat, if the way he's biting on his bottom lip is anything to go by. Carlos seems to visibly relax at the sight of TK, and Owen clocks the way TK's eyes soften when they settle on Carlos. It's a two-way street for them, and Owen opens his mouth to come up with something when Carlos jumps in. 

"We're just talking about you, obviously." 

TK rolls his eyes playfully. "Only the best things."

"Of course," Carlos smiles at him, before he glances back at Owen. "Um—"

"You two go on," Owen says, as Carlos starts rising out of the chair and TK latches onto his side, pulled in by some invisible gravitational pull. 

"Thank you, Owen," Carlos adds, making sure to look him in the eyes, and all Owen can see is sincerity and not too far away, nothing but love for his son. And Owen nods, standing up so he can squeeze the man's shoulder. TK gives Owen a look, to which Owen just says: 

"He's a good one, kid." 

TK gives him another look, this one knowing and completely love-struck. "I know." 

Carlos blushes again, but still nods at Owen before TK pulls him away to dance or talk or do whatever they do when they get lost in that little world of theirs. And Owen—well, he sits back and relaxes, as this group of people he loves like family flow together seamlessly. That worry will probably always subconsciously be there, but his heart's more occupied by the thought that his kid's found a lasting love, and just maybe, things will turn out just okay for all of them.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments/kudos are greatly appreciated!!


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